


Everyone's Running From Something

by ravenienne



Series: Powerless Universe (AU) [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blind Character, Blind bucky, Blindness, Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Deaf, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Deaf Foggy, Disability, Disabled Character, Gen, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenienne/pseuds/ravenienne
Summary: Sequel to "What Was Housing Thinking?"Matt's dealing, or not dealing, with his personal demons. Foggy is trying to make everybody be friends. Clint is trying to figure out why it bugs him so much that his friend is getting a CI. Steve is dealing with chronic pain while working as an ER nurse and worrying about his friend who recently got out of rehab for an army injury.Basically, this is an AU that meshes a few ideas that I keep having and won't leave me alone. What if Matt weren't Daredevil, he doesn't have super senses, but still did some of the things he does in the show, and it turns out Foggy's assumptions/what he tells Karen is somewhat true? And the random idea, I don't even know where it came from, of Foggy being Deaf. And then I wanted to do a big crossover fic. And... this is what happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me preface by saying I am not Deaf/deaf or HoH, and don't know ASL. Nor am I blind. So if I get major things wrong and you know it's wrong, let me know. I'm probably going to touch on some potentially charged topics, but I'm hoping to do so relatively neutrally.

_ Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.  _ “ _ Text from Foggy Nelson.” _

Matt rolled over irritably, still mostly asleep.

_ Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.  _ “ _ Text from Foggy Nelson.” _

Half-awake, Matt flung a hand out towards the sound, sending his phone clattering to the ground and jarring him a bit more awake. He propped himself up on one elbow, dragged a hand down his face and sighed. He reached a hand over to his left side to confirm Mindy’s definite absence, finding as he did so a piece of paper. 

“Crap,” he mumbled irritably as he reached down into the crack between his bed and his nightstand, fumbling for his phone.

_ Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.  _ “ _ Text from Foggy Nelson.” _

The repeated noise was enough to give him a location and he grasped the iPhone, tapping at it to read his messages.

“ _ Good morning, sunshine! _ ” the robotic female voice read out to him.

_ “That was a joke, I hope you’re not actually still asleep.” _

_ “Status?” _

Matt tapped his phone for the time, groaning again when it read it out. “Text Foggy,” he ordered the device. “Sorry comma, slow morning period. I’ll be there soon period.”

His phone sounded out a response quickly. “ _ No promises the bagels will still be here if you don’t get here in 30.” _

“What kinds did you get?”

“ _ Get here and you’ll find out. _ ”

Matt sighed again as he put his phone aside carefully. Now that he was able to think on it, he located and picked up the piece of paper he had found. He felt it and thought there were probably pen indentations on it. Getting out his phone, he selected the appropriate app and aimed it at the paper, but no matter the angle it couldn’t seem to pick up what the paper said. Sighing, he set it on the bedside table. He hadn’t been expecting to see Sydney -- Cindy? -- again anyway.  

#####  xxXxx

Heading out into the cacophony of sound that is New York City, Matt held back his wince and gave his temple a quick massage. Maybe he should have popped an Advil before heading out; between the remnants of a mild hangover from drinking a bit too much with Mandy -- Sandy? -- last night and the frequent headaches and migraines he had been plagued with since the accident, the chaos of the streets was not his friend today. Trying to narrow his focus only to what he felt beneath his cane and the sounds necessary for navigation, he was surprised when the sound on his familiar path suddenly turned more echo-y, as though he were suddenly partly enclosed. Perhaps a temporary scaffold overhead on this block? Crossing a side street, he then encountered what seemed to be a large cement block in the middle of the sidewalk. Somewhat puzzled but still focusing on breathing through the pressure in his head, he navigated around the barrier but then --

“Hey, whoa, watch it!” A large man was suddenly very close to him. “This area is-- oh, sorry dude.”

Matt gave a tentative smile. “Is the sidewalk closed?”

“Yeah, construction. There’s a sign directing pedestrians that way.”

Ah, yes, ‘that way’. The direction between ‘over there’ and ‘right here’, naturally. “Would you mind directing me around?” Matt asked, giving his most winning smile and hoping for more specific verbal directions.

“Oh, here, yeah, I’ll just…” Matt startled when the stranger grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the side. He managed to maneuver them into a somewhat more optimal not-quite-sighted-guide position, but the whole experience left him feeling rumpled and sore. Especially once he took the time to re-orient himself and noticed all the guy had needed to do was direct him across the street. And of course, he realized with a sigh as he felt the hands on his watch, he was now barely going to get to the office in time for a quick refresher on the case before their client meeting.   

#####  xxXxx

The client meeting went fine, of course. It was right up Foggy’s alley – a Deaf man claiming discrimination at his job. Afterwards, Foggy followed Matt into his office.

“Do you want to get drinks later?” Foggy asked with a trace of a ‘deaf accent.’ "I’m meeting Clint and Steve at Josie’s after work. We haven’t hung out all four of us in ages.”

Matt turned to face his friend as he put his briefcase down and smirked. “It’s not my fault they work the night shift and can never hang out with us at a normal time.”

Foggy huffed. “Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

#####  xxXxx

Matt could hear the sounds coming from Josie’s from a half block away, but Foggy paused before they quite reached the door, Matt’s hand on his elbow.

“Hang on,” Foggy said, slipping out of Matt’s grasp for a moment. “All right, fair warning, buddy, the aids are coming out. You want my attention, don’t use noise to do it.”

Matt chuckled. “When do I ever use noise to get your attention?”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!” Foggy half-yelled.

Matt laughed harder and grabbed his elbow again, urging Foggy inside. “Yeah, yeah.”

Foggy hesitated for only a moment once they were inside, then he said “I see them, they’re close to the back.”

Matt just nodded and followed Foggy, getting jostled only slightly on the way.

“Hey! Foggy, Matt, good to see you guys!” Steve’s voice greeted them with enthusiasm, although Matt thought he detected a hint of fatigue under his usual energy. Steve tended to be that way though, a bit of a contradiction, with his high-energy personality but frequent fatigue and scrappy attitude but small and weak frame.

“Wish I could say the same,” Matt quipped as they took their seats.

“Oh, har har,” Steve responded, a smile in his voice.

“What, did I miss something?” Foggy asked. Matt could feel his hands next to him flying through signs as he spoke.

Steve shook his head. “Just Matt’s usual humor.”

Such incidences usually peppered their conversations when they were all together Honestly, Matt wasn’t really sure how they had all stayed friends -- specifically, why they still put up with him. Foggy and Clint were both Deaf. Foggy was oral, but preferred ASL, and although he could lip read quite well, Matt knew he found it more exhausting than he often let on. Clint, although he had lost his hearing later in life than Foggy, was not oral, and Matt didn’t begrudge him the choice at all. Steve, who was hearing but knew ASL, often ended up acting as an interpreter between Clint and Matt.

Matt had done what he could to learn ASL after finding out his roommate was Deaf, and particularly once it became clear that Foggy and he were becoming fast friends. However, similar to Clint’s lack of comfort communicating in a language that occurred entirely in a modality he had no access to, Matt found it difficult to learn a language that was so completely visual. He signed some to Foggy, and he could do some tactile signing, which basically involved cupping his hands around the signer’s hands to feel their handshapes and movements, but he was far from fluent and found tactile signing particularly awkward.

As a result, there were plenty of miscommunications and slapstick moments in their little group of friends.

Once Foggy had gotten back from the bar with their first round of drinks, Matt asked, “So Steve, Clint, what’s new with you guys? Night shift still treating you well?” Clint worked as a bouncer at a few local clubs and an overnight security guard at a building uptown, while Steve was a nurse who for some reason Matt couldn’t fathom actually preferred the night shift.

“Uh, yeah, fine, mostly,” Steve answered.

“Mostly?” Foggy asked.

“No it’s great, really,” Steve quickly backtracked. “I just… have been getting more fatigued again lately. A little more pain too, makes being on my feet a bit harder.”

“Have you seen your doctor about it yet?” Foggy immediately asked worriedly. Matt frowned at him, trying to shoot him a look, knowing that Steve disliked mothering.

“Relax, Fog, I have an appointment next week. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, just a bit of a flare.” Matt thought Steve was probably rolling his eyes at Foggy.

Changing the subject, Matt turned to Clint and asked, “What about you?” He signed as he did, since the question fell within his repertoire.

“Fine, fine,” Steve translated. “Although I was going to ask Foggy if you knew much about… I don’t think I know that word, sorry. Co-chle-- oh cochlear implant.”

“Not a ton, no,” Foggy answered. “Why?”

“Mikey is thinking about getting one.”

“What? Why now? We’re in our late twenties! Isn’t it a little late?”

“I guess not. He started dating this hearing girl. He started going to a speech therapist, too. I don’t know where he’s getting the money for it, either.”

Matt heard Foggy’s shirt rustle -- a shrug, probably. “I mean, it’s his choice. I speak. And getting a CI doesn’t make him not Deaf.”

After a moment, Steve ended up changing the subject. “Matt and Clint, are you guys hitting the gym tomorrow? Are they still doing that mini tournament thing? I thought it might be fun to come watch a match.”

“The local amateur tournament?” Matt shook his head as he took a sip of his beer. “Nah, it finished a couple weeks ago. That kid Larry won. Sounded like a good fight. We’re still on for a run tomorrow morning though, right Clint?”

“He said yeah,” Steve explained. “I still can’t believe you guys are really training to run the marathon.”

“Heh, yeah, well. I feel a bit silly to be honest. I’ve never run an organized race before. I’ll have to wear this vest that says ‘blind’ on it. But Clint and I are getting the hang of running tied together.”

“I think it’s great,” Foggy threw in.

#####  xxXxx

The next morning, Matt and Clint had just finished up their run through Central Park and had stopped at one of the carts for a lemonade when Matt stiffened, listening.

Clint frowned at him, accepted his change from the cart owner with a nod, then half-dragged the distracted Matt to the side. He jostled his shoulder a bit, but when that didn’t elicit a response he pulled out his phone and typed out something, then made his phone read it out loud.

“ _ What’s up? Can you hear a ghost? Because you kind of look like you saw one but we both know that can’t happen. _ ”

Matt shook himself, wiping some sweat from his brow and taking a sip of his lemonade. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, signing the word with his free hand.

Clint shook his head, typing into his phone again. “ _ Dude, if you could see yourself you’d know why I’m not buying that. What’s wrong? _ ”

Matt sighed, then wordlessly handed his lemonade to Clint so he could type into his own phone. He held it up for Clint to see.

  
“ _ I think I just heard Craig Walker, my old foster father. The one Foggy calls Stick. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm soooo much later than I planned/expected with this. And it's shorter than planned. But I decided rather than keep bulling through on the scene I was stuck on how to write, I would just publish this since it has been so long. Hopefully something short is better than waiting even longer!

Walking into the office Monday morning, Matt wasn’t surprised to hear Foggy puttering around in the kitchen already. Foggy was more of a morning person than he’d like to admit, despite his valiant attempts at being a party animal in college and his continued enjoyment of the bar scene even as they headed into their late twenties.

He could tell it was him, not Karen, before he spoke by the weight of his footsteps and the intangible solidity of his presence. In contrast, Karen sometimes seemed as though she hardly even wanted to cast a shadow or leave a mark under her foot, although she paired that with more of a firecracker personality and spirit than anyone else he knew. 

“Matt, hey!” Foggy greeted him cheerfully as Matt came to the edge of the kitchen doorway. “Karen’s not in yet. How was your weekend?”

Matt shrugged. “Fine. Had a good run with Clint. Went to mass yesterday.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Matt could tell Foggy was debating with himself, and then--

“C’mon Matt, don’t give me that. I talked to Clint.”

Matt gave him a sheepish smile. “What is there to say?”

“You heard Stick at Central Park?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard Craig, yeah.”

“...And…?”

“And what, Foggy? That’s it. I don’t know if he’s moved back or he’s just visiting the city. Either way, it’s a big city. There’s no way I’ll run into him again. No reason to worry over it.”

“Matt--”

“Can we please drop this, Foggy?” A hint of emotion slipped into Matt’s voice, which up to now had been completely nonchalant, and he quickly swallowed it down. When Foggy didn’t protest further, he jerked his chin in the direction of the counter. “You gonna share some of that coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

 

#####  xxXxx

“I’m glad you texted. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out just the two of us,” Steve said before taking a sip of his coffee.

Matt gave him a small, somewhat rueful smile. “Yeah, I guess it has. Well, I was going to be in the area, so.”

“I didn’t realize you still got check-ups from the accident.”

“It was part of the original agreement. We didn’t get much from Rand, I don’t think my dad realized how much of a stink he could have made out of it. And he didn’t have money to get a lawyer, although he probably could have found one who would do it  _ pro bono _ for the publicity alone.” Matt shook his head. “Our case would have been solid, any lawyer would have jumped at the chance for a cut of that settlement money…” 

Matt cleared his throat and fiddled with his mug before taking a sip of his own coffee. “Anyways, the point is, they promised yearly free check-ups. It’s never showed anything more than what we already know, but I sort of worry that if I skip one year they’ll get in a tiff and say I must not need them anymore or something, and then if it ever does become necessary… Plus it’s a free doctor visit. So.” He shrugged.

“Makes sense.”

They sipped quietly for a bit before Steve spoke up again. “Um, look we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but Foggy mentioned it and he seemed worried. He said you ran into, um, I forget his name, but your foster father? The other day at the park?”

Matt smirked slightly. “Foggy called him Stick, right? His name is Craig.”

“Right, yeah.” Steve gave a nervous chuckle.

“I mean, yeah, I heard him. It’s not a huge deal though. I’m sure I won’t run into him again.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. Foggy just thought… Well, you know his childhood was like a fairytale, basically, at least compared to the rest of us. He thought maybe it would be easier to talk to someone else who had been in the system. If you wanted to, that is.”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Matt’s lips were pressed into a line.

“That’s fine.” A pause. “I have been wondering why Foggy calls him Stick.”

“Oh, um, I think it’s because I told him he carries a cane? That’s how I used to recognize him, his footsteps. He didn’t seem to really use it for support, at least not much that I could tell, but he liked to thunk it.”

“And you were placed with him right after your dad died?”

Matt shook his head. “St. Agnes, the group home, first. Craig about a year later, and I was with him a year. And I spent all of eighth grade and all of high school back at St. Agnes. It was a group home for kids with, um, disabilities. We could be hard to place elsewhere.”

“Right, yeah, I get that. I was lucky that way.”

Matt gave a tiny nod. “I was angry at first when I got put back at St. Agnes. Looking back though, it was probably better there.”

“Why?”

“Less uncertainty.” Matt shrugged. “Craig could be a bit… volatile at times.”

Steve was opening his mouth to ask a follow-up question when Matt felt his watch for the time and quickly said, “Listen, I got to get back to work, but I’m glad we could do this.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled. “Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

Matt got a call from Steve on the following Friday night, just as he was thinking about packing up for the day.

“Hey Steve, I was just going to pack up to meet you. What’s up?”

“Yeah, hey, um…” Steve’s voice sounded tired. “I was wondering if you might be willing to come over here instead? I’m not sure I’m quite, um, up to going out tonight.”

“Of course, that’s fine. What do you want me to bring? Thai food, beer?”

Steve gave a soft chuckle. “Thanks, man. Sorry to do this to you so often.”

“Don’t apologize, just answer the question.”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, Thai sounds good. Bring the beer if you want it but I’m good.”

“All right, I’ll be there soon.”

An hour later, Matt was sitting on the couch in Steve’s apartment, eating out of a take-out container. Steve was next to him in his beat-up armchair, slowly eating with each movement accompanied by the soft sound of the thick scratchy yarn of his blanket rubbing and plasticky crinkling sounds from a heating pad and an ice pack. 

Matt knew Steve was still feeling guilty for canceling their plans to go out for drinks (although to be fair, Foggy had canceled on them first for a date). It always exasperated him, but he also got it. He felt guilty whenever his disability held his friends back from seeing a movie in the theater (accessibility options were never as available or as good as advertised), or forced one of them to narrate a movie at home that didn’t have audio description, or when he occasionally asked one of them to accompany him when visiting a completely new place, or when they did a million other little things to make his life easier. It didn’t matter how much they insisted they didn’t mind, or that Foggy’s descriptions improved the movies, he always felt this nugget of guilt. He guessed that Steve felt similarly, even if it wasn’t the same exact situation.

“Do you want to play a game or something?” Matt asked as he finished his food. “Or put on a show? Or something else?”

“A show sounds nice. Although,” a sigh, “I forgot to grab the remote before sitting down.” 

Matt heard the sounds of the blanket moving and the chair creaking as Steve went to get up, and he quickly jumped to his feet.

“No, no, stay there. You’re all settled with your heat and your ice and things. I’ll get it. Just, um, where is it?” He smiled, trying to look reassuring.

“Uh, thanks, um… good question… Oh, I think it’s under the blanket at the other end of the couch, probably.”

Matt carefully felt over to that end and pulled up the blanket he found there, patting around beneath it but feeling nothing but a pillow.

“Oh, no, I don’t see it under there, sorry.” Steve sounded sincerely apologetic.

“Steve, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t live here, you’re within your rights to lose the remote. As friend-of-the-blind-guy, your responsibilities end at keeping the floor clear when I’m visiting.”

“Yeah, well, it would make moments like this easier.”

Matt laughed, unable to disagree.

“All right, check the end table over there? I can’t see it from here.”

Matt obediently walked over and began feeling around on the end table, finding a couple of random coasters, a lamp, a small metal figurine or something that he almost knocked over, a picture frame, a half-full plastic cup of what was probably water, and finally the remote.

“This it?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Once he had the remote and Matt had sat back down, Steve asked, “How do you feel about Dance Academy? It’s kind of my guilty pleasure, although Netflix only has the first season now. Oh crud, wait, no descriptive audio. Um…”

“Sorry.” Matt hunched his shoulders a bit. “All the Netflix originals have it, if that helps?”

“Oh! The new Gilmore Girls! Have you seen that?”

Matt wrinkled his nose slightly. “...No? I never watched Gilmore Girls.”

“What?! It’s awesome. It’s got tons of witty dialogue, which I know is right up your alley. Plus it’s almost got a reverse-Bechdel feminist thing going on or something. That doesn’t even make any sense, but I don’t know how to describe it. Like, it has a bunch of really fleshed-out and complicated female characters, and a lot of more one-dimensional guys, and the guys hardly talk to each other about anything other than girls, and some stereotypes are reversed… I’m probably not making this sound very good. Just… yeah. Oh wait, the original series doesn’t have descriptive audio. C’mon Netflix.”

“It’s okay, we can just--” Matt tried to interject.

“No, I’m not ruining the proper Gilmore Girls experience for you by starting you with A Year in the Life. And, despite this in-the-moment burst of weird energy that apparently came from the prospect of introducing you to Gilmore Girls, I don’t think I’m up for narrating tonight. Um… New Girl has descriptive audio?”

Matt laughed. “Sure.”

 

#####  xxXxx

Matt and Foggy met Clint and Steve at Josie’s again the following Saturday, partly to make up for the cancelled outing the prior week, at least according to Steve. Matt followed Foggy’s lead, weaving through tables towards their friends, and was about to answer Steve’s usual “Good to see you!” greeting with his usual blind joke when he was interrupted by Foggy.

“Who’s your friend?” Foggy asked as he and Matt were taking their seats.

“Right, introductions. This is Bucky, the old friend I was telling you about. Bucky, Matt and Foggy. We’ve been friends since college.”

Foggy signed and spoke, “Yeah, since that fateful semester when we tried to form a rock band.” They all laughed at the memory, and Foggy protested, “Hey, I was feeling empowered! I had just discovered Deaf bands and Deaf drummers -- how was I to know I had no rhythm?”

Matt just shook his head and turned towards where he was pretty sure Bucky was sitting. (It was either Bucky or the ever-silent Clint.) “It’s nice to meet you Bucky, I’m Matt,” he greeted, holding his hand out to shake. “How do you know Steve?”

The oddly long period his hand was left hanging in the air over their table confused Matt for a moment, then he heard Steve quietly say to Bucky, “He’s got his hand out to shake.” There was a rustle and a moment later a hand touched the back of his; after a brief fumble they were successfully shaking hands. And Matt was starting to have a feeling that to Foggy and Steve at least this evening might not just be about hanging out with friends they hadn’t seen in too long. He could feel a blush creep into the tips of his ears.

“Nice to meet you.” Bucky’s voice was deep, solid, although Matt thought there was a tinge of insecurity in it. “Uh, Steve and I lived together for a bit in elementary and middle school. We ran into each other again in a coffee shop a couple weeks ago.”

“You were with the Mobley’s?” Matt clarified.

“For a bit, yeah.”

Matt nodded, then realized his mistake and added, “Sorry, I just nodded. I was in the system in New York too for a while, I spent most of my time at St. Agnes though. Group home.”

“Oh yeah, I think I remember hearing about that place. That was for, um…” Bucky trailed off, seeming unsure.

“Uh, yeah, it was mostly kids who were hard to place. A lot of us had disabilities.”

Matt was trying to come up with another question for Bucky when he was rescued by Foggy joining their conversation. They spent most of the rest of the night with him or Steve included in their conversation. By the end, Matt still wasn’t entirely sure whether Steve and Foggy had for some reason planned this, trying to get their two blind friends to meet and bond or something. He wasn’t sure if Foggy got that blind people didn’t really have a shared culture the way that Deaf people did, although maybe Foggy felt bad about the communication barriers? Either way, Foggy and Steve could be huge meddlers, leading to some awkward situations for him. He hoped they let this one take it’s natural course. 


	4. Chapter 4

The following Monday, Matt got to the office early, having for once woken up fully to his first alarm. He took his time settling in and making coffee, enjoying the relative quiet and having the office to himself for once. He could see the attraction of arriving first every morning, as Foggy usually did, rather than coming in slightly flustered at the last possible minute most mornings as he did.

There was a knock on the door as he was pouring his coffee, and a muffled voice spoke from outside, though he couldn’t make out the words. Setting his mug back down carefully, he made his way to the door and opened it about a foot -- enough to be friendly but not invite whoever it was in.

“I’m sorry, as the sign says, we’re not open for another hour. There’s a cafe down the street you can wait in, if you like.” Matt finished with a winning smile.

“Matty? That you?” A gruff voice asked.

Matt’s mouth suddenly went dry. “Craig?” he croaked out.

“Yeah, of course. Wow you’re all grown up, with your own law firm and everything.”

Matt gave a half smile. “I’ve been grown up for a while now. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Just some legal advice from my big-shot lawyer son. Sorry I’m here so early, I didn’t see the sign. But since you’re here anyway, you can squeeze me in, right?”

Matt suppressed a sigh. He expected a law office to be open for walk-ins at eight in the morning? “Come back when we open, at nine, and I’ll see what we can do. We have a full schedule though, so I can’t promise anything.”

“Knew you wouldn’t let me down, son. I’ll be back.”

Matt shut the door as he heard Craig’s footsteps fade down the hall and went back to the kitchen for his coffee, but the quiet peace of the morning had been shattered. He leaned against the counter, sipping slowly at his coffee, lost in thought. He should have known better than to think Craig would leave him alone. What was he even doing back in the city?

“Matt?”

Matt startled at Foggy’s unexpectedly-close voice, spilling a couple of stray drops of coffee out of his nearly-empty mug.

“Whoa, buddy, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Matt quickly set his mug back on the counter and felt for napkins. “Just didn’t hear you come in. You surprised me.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

Matt felt Fogg press some napkins into his hands and he began gently dabbing at his shirt, hoping he was finding all the spots.

“Here, let me help,” Foggy offered, and at Matt’s nod he gently took the napkin from him, dampened a new one, and began carefully blotting his shirt.

“Do you think it will stain?”

Foggy blew out a breath. “I don’t know, I’m no laundry wizard. But they’re small spots, so I don’t think it should be too noticeable.” He threw the used napkins in the trash, then turned back to Matt. “You okay?”

Matt nodded, fumbling for his mug to finish off the last sips. “Yeah, yeah, fine. It hardly got me.”

“No, I meant, I had to say your name three times before you heard me. Did something happen? You just tired? Usually I can’t sneak up on you even when I’m trying.”

Matt smirked. “That’s ‘cause your footsteps sound like an elephant stampede.”

“Oh, har, make fun of the Deaf guy, so funny.”

Matt gave a small laugh. “Um, well, I was going to tell you this anyway. Craig showed up this morning.”

“What, here?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, said he needed legal advice.”

“What’d you do?”

Matt shrugged. “I told him to come back when we’re open, I’d see if we could squeeze him in.”

“Matt…”

“What? I couldn’t very well turn him away.”

“Yes, you certainly could!”

Matt threw up his hands. “He’s my… my… I owe him a lot.”

“You owe him nothing.”

Matt sighed. “Well, he’s coming back at nine. We can at least hear what he has to say.”

“Not we, just me. I’m not letting you in on that meeting.”

“Foggy, I can’t do that, he’s expecting me!”

“Well, he’ll just have to be disappointed then, won’t he?”

“Fog…” Matt crossed his arms over his chest.

Foggy blew out a breath. “Fine. But if he’s committed some crime and is running from the law, we’re not representing him.”

“He’s not running from the law.”

“So you say now.”

xxXxx

Foggy warned him when he saw someone who he thought was probably Craig walk in at five before nine. Fortunately he wasn’t their first client to arrive, but Matt couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes were on him the whole time as he finished assembling documents in his office, called their first client, and met with Foggy and the client in the conference room. He knew the conference room had windows, but he couldn’t remember if the blinds were closed or not, and he was distracted by this question throughout the meeting.

Foggy seemed to notice his distraction and take pity on him, because when they finished with their first client a few minutes early, he went out into the main office and called out, “Craig Walker? We’ll see you now.”

Matt thought he heard the chair scraping as Craig stood up, then he said something to Foggy that he couldn’t make out. Eventually a pair of footsteps came into the conference room.

“I can find the chair myself, thanks, laddie,” Craig said, his tone somewhere between cutting and joking.

Foggy didn’t say anything, just took his seat by Matt. Matt frowned at the interaction, feeling like he’d missed something, but he let it go when Foggy spoke up.

“What brings you here today, Mr. Walker?”

“Well, I was hoping I could get some legal help from my son here.” Matt shifted uncomfortably at this moniker, but didn’t saying anything as Craig continued. “See, I separated from my wife years ago -- before Matty was in the picture, even -- but we never officially divorced. Now I have a new fiancée, and I’d like to officially divorce so I can remarry, but I have no idea where my ex-wife is or how to reach her.”

“Mr. Walker,” Foggy began. “Are you aware that we’re defense attorneys? We don’t do divorce law.”

“Well, I thought you could help me out. For old times’ sake, Matty.”

Matt shook his head, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

“Like I said, we specialize in defense. I’m afraid we don’t have the expertise to help you, Mr. Walker,” Foggy reiterated.

“Fine, then. One more thing though.”

“Mr. Walker--”

Matt cleared his throat. “It’s fine. What is it?”

“My fiancée, see she has a kid. But she split up with the dad when the kid was young, and she hasn’t seen him since. He’d be an adult now, though. She’s wondering how to find him, and if there would be any legal stuff involved in contacting him.”

Foggy’s annoyance was beginning to leak into his tone as he said, “We’re not family law attorneys either, Mr. Walker--”

“We do specialize in defense, Mr. Walker,” Matt cut in. “But if her son or daughter is now an adult, the legalities of contacting them would be more straightforward. The law is more protective of children in such situations.”

“Thank you, Matty. Knew you could help me.”

“Well, Mr. Walker,” his chair scraped as Foggy stood up. “If that’s all, we do have clients scheduled for this hour. Would you like assistance finding the door?”

“I’m fine.” Craig sounded irritated now, but he nevertheless stood up and left the room. Foggy closed the door behind him, then turned to Matt.

“You okay?” he asked.

Matt nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Foggy sighed, then something seemed to occur to him. “Oh, hey, how come you never told me he was blind too?”

Matt blinked behind his sunglasses. “What?”

“He’s… you don’t… what?” Foggy spluttered.

“Why do you think he’s blind?”

“Well, he was wearing sunglasses--”

“--That doesn’t--”

“--and he was carrying a white cane, although he didn’t tap it like you do. Just kind of held it across his body, above the ground.”

Matt frowned. “He didn’t have his usual cane, I guess, I didn’t hear it while he was walking. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“So he wasn’t blind when you knew him?”

Matt shook his head. “No.”

“Huh.”

They were quiet, then Matt spoke up again. “Foggy, don’t we have a 10 o’clock?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Foggy opened the door again. “Karen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so late on updating this! My life is rather crazy, and writing is a side-hobby, so I tend to do it when I have time. Which means I'm bad at sticking to a schedule. I will try to be quicker next time though!


	5. Chapter 5

“Ugh, sometimes I miss Landman and Zack,” Foggy groaned. “Oh, watch the step,” he said to Matt beside him.

The two of them were leaving the police precinct late in the evening on a Friday after having bailed out a new client.

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher, you know that?” Foggy continued.

“Oh, not the butcher story.” Matt rolled his eyes, signing some of his words as he spoke in case Foggy didn’t see his lips.

“I said, ‘No, Mom, I want to be a lawyer.’ I don’t remember what I said next.”

“No, you never do.”

“But I’m fairly certain it wasn’t about bailing out a piss-drunk electrician who nearly burned his house down. Oh, let’s cross here.”

“Ed’s wife left him, Foggy. It was an accident,” Matt insisted, facing Foggy as they waited for a break in the traffic. “Admittedly involving cigarettes and gasoline, but still.”

“I could be carving my own corned beef. Making my own pickles, have a little shop of my own.”

“One, you have your own office. And two, then we wouldn’t be two big time lawyers in our old neighborhood, representing the little people, showing people that our abilities -- or at least our sensory ones -- don’t define us. You wouldn’t be a member of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Bar Association.”

“I’d hardly call us big time lawyers,” Foggy retorted as he led Matt across the street. “And we could have showed people that Deaf people and blind people can be lawyers just as well at Landman and Zack. Matt, what if we’re doing this all wrong? What if Landman and Zack was the way to go?”

“You hated interning there.”

Matt heard a rustle that was probably Foggy shrugging. “I hate being broke.” They paused and Foggy broke away from Matt to hail a cab.

“You think Landman and Zack would have let us stick up for the little guy, or pursue disability law?”

“No. But they had free bagels… _every_ morning,” Foggy replied. “And furniture that didn’t smell like a pack of cigarettes. And elevators. God, I miss the elevators. Our own office isn’t even ADA compliant.”

“Hey, we have made it work for the couple of clients that needed that, and promised to move to an accessible building just as soon as we find one in our budget or get a bigger budget. We’re doing good here, Foggy.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah, we’re making a difference.”

Foggy sighed. “Sometimes I wish I were in it for the money, a little bit.”

Just then, Matt’s phone rang -- an unknown number, but he picked it up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Who’s that?” Foggy asked as Matt heard a cab pull up.

Matt held up a finger to Foggy as he listened to the woman on the line.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” Foggy muttered to him.

Matt tried to suppress his grin as he responded affirmatively to the woman’s invitation and hung up.

“You’re about to ditch me for a girl, aren’t you? My life sucks,” Foggy said as Matt turned back to him.

Matt only smiled. “Get home safe.”

Matt ended up meeting the girl at a bar not far away. Several drinks later, his memories of her leading him up the stairs to her apartment and through to her bedroom grew slightly hazy and soft. He lay awake in her bed afterwards, listening to her breathing even out, and groaned quietly as sleep continued to evade him and the fuzzy feeling in his head slowly gave way to a building headache.

xxXxx

The following afternoon, Matt met Clint at the boxing gym. They took turns at the heavy bag, Clint spotting a bit for Matt. Matt had just caught and steadied the bag, peeled off his gloves, and felt his way the couple of steps to the bench for his towel and water, when he heard the robotic voice from Clint’s phone.

“ _Did you want to try to spar sometime?_ ” it said.

Matt frowned. “Spar?” he questioned, gesturing with his hands.

There was a pause filled with light tapping sounds, then Clint’s explanation came. “ _I know I occasionally run into guys who for some reason are afraid they’ll hurt me, even though hearing has little to do with boxing. I imagine no one has ever offered to you. Is it something you would want to try? I would be willing to try if you want. No pressure though, you don’t have to._ ”

Matt thought for a moment, then smiled. He nodded and fumbled for his phone on the bench, picking it up and speaking into the notes app for Clint to read.

“I’d like to try. I’m not sure how it will work, but I’d like to try.”

xxXxx

On Sunday, Matt headed straight after mass to an event hosted by the New York State Commission for the Blind and the New York chapter of the National Federation of the Blind. It was a combination fundraiser and job and skills fair, aimed to show newly-blinded or un- or under-employed blind or low vision locals what services were available to them. A few training programs were being advertised, a handful of businesses had sent representatives (although most of the representatives, Matt knew, had been helped by one of the two organizations hosting the event, or participated in one of their programs in the past), and a host of potentially useful gadgets were being shown off. Matt had volunteered to answer questions about rights under the ADA with regards to employment, as well as speak about his own experiences.

He was set up at one of the booths, and listened as people began to mill around the area, occasionally asking questions about what each booth was about. He finished answering some of the questions of a young woman heading to college soon, giving her a smile as they said goodbye, and called out to the general crowd in front of him, “Is there anyone next in line?”

“Oh, um, me, I think,” a vaguely familiar, deep male voice spoke up.

Frowning as he tried to figure out why the voice was familiar, Matt said, “Hi, I’m Matt Murdock. I’m not sure what you know about my booth, but I’m here to answer any questions about rights under the ADA, or just general questions about going to college and being employed as someone who’s blind.”

“Oh, wait, Matt Murdock? I’m Bucky. We met at Josie’s, like, a week ago?”

“Oh, Bucky! Wow, good to see you again.” Matt held his hand out for a shake, still not entirely sure of the proper protocol with someone else who was blind, but fortunately this time Bucky seemed to either see it (Matt still wasn’t sure whether he had any residual vision, not that it was really any of his business) or have the same idea, since their hands somehow found each other.

“So, um, did you have any questions?” Matt asked, feeling a little awkward again.

“Right, yeah.”

They chatted briefly over what the ADA covered in name, how much employers tended to be able to get away with, and what sorts of things to watch out for. After a couple of minutes, Matt found himself asking whether Bucky might like to continue the conversation later on, over coffee or something, since they sort of knew each other or had mutual friends anyway. Bucky accepted, and soon they were exchanging numbers, and Matt found himself feeling a little odd about having offered to fulfill the role of some sort of blind mentor for an acquaintance. Well, he mentally shrugged, maybe it would be the beginning of a friendship, and maybe he and Bucky would turn out to have a lot in common. Or maybe not. At the least it would appease any friends-match-making desires that Steve and Foggy might have been indulging in.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been crazy long since I posted, but here's a longer chapter, hope you enjoy!

“Hey guys, thanks for doing this again,” Steve said as he opened the door to his apartment wide to let Foggy and Matt in. “Sorry I keep changing the plans. Um, and sorry the apartment’s a bit of a mess, I haven’t had the energy and Clint has been working more hours this week...” he trailed off, sounding sheepish.

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Foggy said as he led Matt in. “Cheaper this way, anyway, than drinking at a bar. Though we won’t be offended if you don’t imbibe tonight.”

Matt gave Steve a reassuring smile, nodding to show his agreement with Foggy. He hesitated a bit before saying, “Um, it’s no problem, but you said the apartment’s a bit of a mess? Anything I should watch out for?” He really hoped he didn’t make Steve feel guilty by asking, but he thought Steve would probably feel even worse if he tripped over something out of place.

“No not really -- or, well, there’s nothing on the floor, but there’s some stuff on the futon so probably just sit on the couch, and there’s a lot of dishes in the sink--”

“It’s fine, Steve, don’t worry about it, really,” Matt interrupted him, smiling again as he set his cane by the door and stepped into the familiar space, starting to head down the entry hall towards the living room. He startled a bit when he checked Steve lightly with his shoulder, catching Steve’s arm as his body involuntarily turned slightly and frowning when he felt an odd fabric on his shoulder.

Steve sucked in a breath at the touch, but was quickly apologizing, “I’m so sorry Matt, I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t move fast enough--”

“Hey, relax,” Matt said, frowning in concern. He heard Foggy step up behind him and voice the question he had been about to.

“You okay, Steve? You seem...” He trailed off, apparently unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking.

“I’m fine, I just…” Matt thought he could hear the beginning of tears in Steve’s voice, and he spoke up.

“Hey, let’s go sit. Foggy, maybe grab some plates for the Chinese? I imagine we’re all hungry.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Matt walked with Steve into the living room, settling on the couch next to where Steve sat in his armchair. He waited to speak until Foggy came in and started setting things on the coffee table.

“How are you doing, Steve?” he asked, trying to imbue his tone with patience and calm encouragement. “It seems like maybe something more than the usual is up.”

A quick, faint rustling noise came from Steve’s direction, then he said, “Oh, I shrugged. I just… am tired.”

Matt and Foggy waited patiently for a moment for more, then Foggy spoke up. “I haven’t seen you wear a sling in a while,” he prompted gently.

“Yeah, sorry my signing is going to be one-handed tonight.”

“Steve, please stop worrying about us, tonight at least,” Foggy said. “Are you okay?”

Steve sighed. “My shoulder keeps dislocating while I’m sleeping, or trying to sleep, so I’m just exhausted. And sore. And before you ask I did see my doctor yesterday, but there’s not much more than the usual to do. She made sure it was back in properly and is having me keep it immobilized as much as possible for a little while. Then my hip subluxed pretty badly while in bed last night too, and it feels like it’s still sitting wrong or something. I’m just a bit of a mess today, okay, and I haven’t been sleeping well at all the past week.

“I’m sorry I let you bump into me in the hall, Matt. I’m just so tired and I wasn’t thinking, and then I didn’t turn fast enough.”

“Don’t worry about me, Steve, I’m fine. Did I hurt you, though?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine. Let’s just… can we just, eat and put on a show and just… be together? I’m exhausted but I still kind of wanted the company… You guys can drink if you want but I might just end up falling asleep to be honest.”

“A chill evening in watching a stupid show sounds perfect, Steve. And stop feeling guilty. It’s not your fault you have crappy collagen, that is courtesy of Ehlers-Danlos which you did not ask for.” Foggy said sternly, and Matt grinned at his tone. “Now, do you want noodles or rice?”

xxXxx

Matt entered the little coffee shop and breathed deeply, enjoying the lovely scents of exotic brews and warm pastries. He liked coming here when he had the chance; it was a bit out of his way, and slightly more expensive than most of the other coffee shops, but he liked supporting local businesses, and honestly their coffee and pastries were worth the extra expense when he could squeeze it into his budget. Plus, their baristas would actually bring your order out to your table if you were eating there, which to be frank Matt sometimes just found easier, and they were attentive enough that they often offered to guide him to an empty table after he placed his order at the register.

Matt stood for a moment a couple of paces in from the door, not quite in line, and debated. He hadn’t actually thought through this part of the morning, and now was feeling a bit unsure. He was meeting Bucky here in just a minute or two, but he had only ever met someone sighted in a public place like this, and as a habit relied on their sight to help them find each other. Was there a protocol he didn’t know with another blind person? He had been blind for years, nineteen to be exact, so he felt like he should know, but he had never had to worry about interacting with another blind person.

Apparently he had stood there long enough to attract attention though, because an employee approached and said, “Excuse me, sir, can I help you with something?”

Matt put on his most charming smile. “Hi, yes, actually. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here and I’m not sure if he’s arrived yet. He’s, um… well actually I’m not sure what he looks like, but he’s blind as well so he’d be carrying a cane like this.” He gestured with his own.

“I don’t think he’s here yet, sir. Would you like to go ahead and get in line to order and then get a table, and when he arrives I can take him to your table?”

“That would be perfect, thank you. My name is Matt, by the way.”

He had only just ordered and settled at a table, still waiting on his coffee, when he heard the same friendly employee ask someone if they were meeting a friend named Matt, then heard them and Bucky approaching his table.

“Here you are, sir, and the line to order starts just a few paces to your… four o’clock. There’s only a couple of people in line and the register is what is making that loud ding -- it’s a bit old-fashioned.”

“Thank you,” Bucky’s deep voice rumbled out. Matt heard him placing a few things on his chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Bucky,” Matt spoke up as the barista walked away.

“You too, thanks for meeting me.” Bucky’s voice was friendly enough, though Matt got the impression that he also was feeling just slightly awkward. “I’m just going to go order something, is there anything you recommend here?”

“Um, honestly everything is great. They have a lot of great brews if you’re a coffee drinker, and a lot of good loose leafs if you like tea. I usually just ask what they have today when I get to the front.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

He returned a couple of minutes later, and just as Matt was trying to figure out how to make some small talk the barista arrived with their orders. He was still wracking his brain for appropriate conversation starters when they left, but at least he had something to hold and sip. Eventually, Bucky broke the silence.

“So have you always been…? Sorry, can I ask that?”

Matt laughed, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I think of anyone you can. The answer is no, but I was in an accident when I was nine. What about you?”

“I -- was -- in the military. I was in an explosion, about a year ago.”

“Oh, wow, that’s recent.”

“Yeah. A bit unlucky considering we’re not exactly at war anymore but…” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Feels almost ironic considering I’d been deployed several times starting in ‘07.” Matt could hear him take what sounded like a big gulp of his coffee. “Just stop me if my questions are too intrusive or something, I’m just… really new to all of this. I don’t really know what to do with myself next, I always figured I’d be career military, and now…”

“Yeah. Well, the good news is that you don’t really need your sight for many jobs these days. The trick is convincing potential employers of that, and proving that you would be worth any accommodations. Finding my law school internship was… interesting.”

“Really? You would think lawyers would be aware of the ADA and all that.”

“Oh, they are. But they also know exactly what they can get away with and what to say. I really wanted to intern at a smaller firm, definitely not something corporate. Interns, though, at least at first they’re really used for the grunt work. So that meant a lot of going through discovery documents, reading through files, sorting and organizing files, that sort of thing. I think to a lot of them I didn’t seem worth it since they figured they would need to do extra work to get anything in a format I could read. Landman and Zack had the money to not really need to be worried about any additional cost, and I guess decided that I was worth that additional cost, or that at least my feel-good factor would be.” Matt shrugged. “I definitely got the impression I was a bit of an affirmative action hire, but I tried not to let it bother me because I needed the experience and the opportunity to prove myself.

“Your military experience might qualify you for a government job of some sort, though.”

“Um, well technically I never finished high school or got my GED, so… Oh, I just shrugged. Wait, can you see that? Sorry, I’m not--”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind you asking me questions. If I really don’t want to answer something, I’ll tell you.” Matt scratched his chin, hoping he came off more self-assured in saying such things than he actually was. “Um, but to answer your question, no. No, I can’t see anything, actually. Total NLP.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s rare, isn’t it?”

“Uh yeah, but my retinas were really damaged. Chemical burns. Um, but I guess it sounds like you have some residual vision, then?” Matt asked cautiously.

“A bit, yeah. Just enough to see light, some shapes and blobs, if the lighting is right. And I have some photophobia, though my doctor says it’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, that’s maybe the only upside to being NLP. Uh, but back to what you were saying, are you thinking about getting your GED? Or going to college, even?”

Bucky sighed. “I was honestly never a great student in high school. And the idea of figuring out how to sit a class and take a test now is…”

“Overwhelming?” Matt suggested quietly.

“Yeah, I guess. But between my eyes and my arm I’m not exactly qualified for manual labor jobs now. And it seems like just about everything else these days requires a degree.”

“Wait, your arm?” Matt asked, confused.

“Oh, you don’t…” Bucky’s chair creaked as he shifted. “Sorry, I didn’t think that you wouldn’t have seen… I’m missing my left arm from about halfway up my forearm.”

“Oh, sorry.” Matt paused. “Seems like that might make reading Braille a bit slower.”

Bucky gave him a small laugh. “I think I’d have to get a bit past reading one letter at a time for it to make much of a difference. Honestly, they made me take one Braille class in rehab but it was too frustrating and I haven’t stuck with it. I try to get everything as audio.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, a lot of people find learning Braille as an adult really hard. I guess in a sense I was lucky that way, just young enough that my brain was still more plastic or something. But, listen, there are a lot of options and resources out there if you know where to look and are willing to dig for them. If you're interested, in a GED class or something, I can try to help you with finding resources, or try to point you towards people who would know.”

“Thanks.” Bucky sounded genuinely grateful. “I'll keep it in mind.”

xxXxx

The following evening, Matt and Foggy closed up the office a little early and left together. Karen had left a couple of hours early for an appointment and their last meeting had ended early.

Matt was in a good mood, laughing at something Foggy had said as he came down the stairs holding his friend's elbow and exited onto the street. He didn't think too much of it when he felt Foggy do a bit of a double-take -- New York could be a weird city after all -- until Foggy spoke.

“Excuse me, ma'am, can we help you? Are you looking for someone?”

A woman's voice came from their left and back towards the building, near where their sign was, and Matt turned towards her as she spoke.

“Oh, um, I was looking for Nelson and… Murdock?”

Foggy's voice was practically jovial. “That's us, ma'am. We just closed up for the day, but if you call our office tomorrow we'd be happy to make an appointment. Sometimes we can squeeze in walk-ins as well though we can't guarantee it.”

“Oh, that's okay, I just, well, I wanted to see Matthew.”

Matt frowned, unsure how to respond to that. Foggy seemed equally confused.

“Hello, Matthew. Craig said that he had seen you and I just… couldn't resist finding you, I guess." A deep breath. "I'm your mother.”


End file.
